A couple of weeks ago I posted about the passing of children’s author Sam Youd, AKA John Christopher. I’d emailed Sam back in 2002, we’d chatted for a while and he had agreed to sign two of his books for me. You can read the original blog post here.

I’d thought our emails had been lost forever, but just after I published the blog post Sam’s daughter, Rose got in touch. She’d searched through her father’s computer and found our correspondence there, filed away for a decade. Rose forwarded the emails to me and has agreed for me to publish them here, for which I am very grateful.

Its a fascinating insight into the later years of a mature and successful writer. Even with a list of best selling novels under various pseudonyms his frustrations at certain aspects of his career are evident. I started by asking him why so many of his books were now out of print.

I’ve never been an adrenaline junky. I like the ground under my feet and the sky above me.

Years ago, when I had the opportunity to do a bungee jump I considered it for about three seconds, then decided it wasn’t for me. The thought of two weeks of anxiety in the run up to doing the jump followed by sixty seconds of euphoric relief didn’t seem to add up. Why? Because I could imagine how what it might be like, hear the rush of wind through my ears, feel the uncomfortable build up of pressure behind my eyes.

Yes, the actual event wouldn’t be quite the same as I imagined it, but anyone who writes, or draws, or does something creative will have one thing in common – a fertile imagination. So I could also imagine my feet ripping from my ankle sockets, the rope snapping and my skull compressing into the soft matter that was once my brain as I hit the ground below me.

Too many variables, too much imagination. Or maybe you’d call it cowardice. Either way it means I’m not the sort who seeks out thrills, puts my body in harms way to get the blood pumping through it.

But that’s not entirely true. My brain does seek those thrills, especially when I’m writing. I’ve noticed a growing obsession, a self-destructive streak in my storytelling that I’ve called ‘Page Jumping‘.